Pezberry Week '12
by purrpickle
Summary: Seven days, seven themes, four one-shots. All Rachel/Santana goodness. Chapter four contains g!peen smut. I have decided this is now complete.
1. Alternate Universe

**A/N: **I don't own Glee nor the characters within. Here's to my 100th story on ffnet! How classic that it's for my collection of Pezberry Week fics? :D

So, yes, as I say above, this is my collection of Pezberry Week fics. A different theme assigned for each day of this seven day cycle ending on Valentine's Day, I'm going to do my best to have an entry for each day. Wish me luck. *grins*

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><p><strong>Day One: Alternate Universe<strong>

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><p>"They're still doing that?" a husky voice asked.<p>

Looking up from where she was scrubbing blue slushie out of her sweater, Rachel blinked. Standing in front of her was an older girl, possibly in her early twenties, dressed in a scaled down version of one of Sue Sylvester's track suits, red and gold with the top unzipped to show a white shirt underneath. Her deep black hair was pulled up in a high ponytail that reminded Rachel of how the Cheerios wore their hair, but what was strikingly different was that this woman was more beautiful than any of the cheerleaders Rachel had seen. She had darker tan skin, full red lips, high cheekbones, and striking brown almost black eyes that Rachel couldn't help staring at.

Then, scrambling to gather her wits when a fine eyebrow raised, Rachel licked her lips and shook her head. "I'm sorry," she replied neutrally, dropping her gaze to go back to dealing with her sweater; she hoped the fact that she was standing in front of the woman in only a pencil skirt and white camisole wasn't terribly embarrassing, "I don't know as to what you are referring to."

"The slushies," the woman offered in return. "I would have thought that would have died five years after I graduated." Studying Rachel, she pursed her lips. "That's not going to come out," she pointed out.

"Like I don't know that," Rachel almost snapped, then slid her gaze back to the woman. "Sorry. I'm going to be late for study hall, and that never puts me in the best of moods." She normally wouldn't have apologized – wasn't it obvious that she was going to be late for class? – but for some reason she didn't want to insult this woman. She hadn't given her reason to, anyway.

Anyway. Rachel tried to stretch out the sweater, willing the water to wash all of the syrup away. "And I'm going to have to do the best I can because I forgot to repack my emergency slushie replacement outfit for some reason. I can't believe I _did_ that. I never do that." She glanced at the woman, half of her mind on trying to figure out why she was bothering to talk to her.

The woman turned to the mirror, shrugging off the gym bag she had slung over her shoulder and pulled a makeup bag out of it. Taking mascara out of it, she leaned closer to the mirror. "I take it this happens often?" she asked, slightly muffled, "I mean, I get it. That sweater. That's a unicorn, right? _I_ can't believe you don't expect to get slushied."

Rachel frowned. "I refuse to let preconditioned notions of female beauty and style have any hold on me," she said stiffly, shutting off the water. She immediately started twisting her sweater, trying to wring out as much water as she could.

The woman snorted. "Let me give you a tip. Don't do that. High school? It sucks." She shrugged, putting the mascara away and replacing it with clear lip gloss, "And this is coming from the old HBIC of these halls. Now." She turned to the mirror, quickly and efficiently swiping the gloss over her lips and smacking them together, "You're already making things worse for yourself with your wardrobe. Hell, if I wasn't on the payroll and liable to getting sued, I'd slushie you myself."

Who was this woman to speak to her like that? Obviously not looking at her while she draped her sweater over the sink, Rachel walked behind the woman to pull six paper towels out of the dispenser. Then, holding two in her hand and stuffing the others into the waistband of her skirt for easy access, she pulled her sweater up and laid it on top. Pulling two more paper towels out with her left hand, she sandwiched the sweater between them, and began trying to squish out as much of the dampness as she could.

However, Rachel's lack of response didn't deter the woman from speaking to her. Studying her out of the corner of her eye, she undid her already perfect ponytail to put it back up again, "You really going to wear that sweater?"

Gritting her teeth, Rachel glared down at her sweater. "I don't have a choice. I can't go around in my underclothes."

"Sucks for you." Nodding at her reflection, the woman bent to grab her gym bag. Sliding her makeup bag back into it, she rummaged for a second more. Barely catching a flash of black before a shirt smacked into her back and shoulder and jaw, she had to scramble to prevent it from falling into the sink. In doing so, her sweater plopped to the floor. Feeling ruffled and incredibly put off, Rachel stared at it, slowly moving her gaze to a William McKinley High Athletics Department t-shirt now in her hands. What?

"When you give that back to me – 'cuz you _will_; I'm not giving it to you – you can drop it off with Coach Beiste. I don't have an office yet." Flashing white teeth in a smile that wasn't necessarily nice, the woman picked up her gym bag and made her way to the door of the bathroom. Pausing with her hand pressing into the ugly green, she scoffed, "Unicorns. Really?" and slipped out.

Staring at the t-shirt in her hand, Rachel didn't know if she wanted to look a gift horse in the mouth or not. But… Who _was _that woman? If she was teacher or aide, she certainly didn't _act_ like one.

But, her sweater was still on the floor. Crouching to pick it up, she set it onto the sink and slowly slipped the black shirt over her head. It was certainly going to look weird paired with her skirt, and it was a couple of sizes too big, but at least no one would see her camisole. As she pulled her hair out of the collar, an unfamiliar light flowery scent made its way to her nose, and she sniffed delicately. Was that perfume or laundry detergent?

The warning bell rang, knocking her out of her thoughts, and she quickly turned her attention to her sweater. Well, at least now she could drape it over the back of her seat in study hall. Hopefully that would help dry it.

* * *

><p>Walking up to her boyfriend during the break between second and third period, Rachel waited for him to comment about her shirt (he had, after all, given her a ride that morning), but instead he just leaned down to kiss her cheek, pulling her under his arm, barely interrupting his conversation with Puck and the other jocks in glee club.<p>

"No, I'm telling you, man, she's _insane_," Puck whistled, "I mean, instant bend her over and show her the Puckasaurus _moves_ kind of insane." He pantomimed doing so and smacking an invisible ass.

"Oh yeah," Artie nodded, exchanging grins with Mike, "_Megan Fox_ hot."

"No, no," Sam looked back and forth between Puck and Artie, lifting his hands in a check it out motion, "_Naya Rivera_ hot."

Finn's face lit up, and he let out a loud whooh. "_No_. You're playin' me."

Artie raised his hand. "Honest to god truth, man."

Starting to feel like she was just an arm rest, Rachel cleared her throat. "Is this really the conversation to have with a lady around?" she smiled hopefully, doing her best to ignore Puck's mouthing of 'Lady?' and Sam's responding shrug, "Hi guys."

Rolling his eyes, Puck nodded at her, the other boys doing similar actions. Removing his arm, Finn turned to her, "Rache, look, you're the one who walked over to us."

Rachel frowned. "Yeah, so?"

"_So_…" Finn resettled himself on his feet, "You're, like, talk-crashing."

Puck, Sam, Mike, and Artie nodded.

Rachel stared up at him. "So you're saying I'm 'in the way'?"

Looking up, Finn's eyebrows furrowed. When he looked down, he shrugged. "Well, yeah. Pretty much."

Stung, Rachel took a step backwards. "Oh. I see." Keeping her voice quiet, she still managed to pour as much scorn into it as she could, getting even angrier at her boyfriend's longsuffering expression, "Okay." Turning on her heel, she walked a couple of seconds before pausing dramatically and looking over her shoulder, "Oh, and I'm sorry, but you can't come over tonight anymore. Turns out you'd only be _in the way_."

"But… But you said your fathers wouldn't _be_ there!" Finn protested, eyes widening in alarm.

Rachel gave him a tight smile. "Too bad."

As she walked away, she heard several different versions of, "_Buuuuurn_," from Finn's friends, and it made her feel, if not a hundred percent, at least a little better. She loved Finn – she really did – but sometimes he was so… Such a _dullard_.

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><p>Just having dropped off the woman's t-shirt (washed and ironed and crisply folded, thank you very much) with Coach Beiste, Rachel looked up when the woman's voice greeted her the moment she stepped out of the football coach's office, "I see you <em>haven't <em>taken my advice."

"No, I haven't," Rachel agreed, turning on her heel to give the woman a dismissive smile. She was quite satisfied with her simple dress and tights outfit.

The woman, dressed in pretty much the same outfit as the day before, had the smallest hint of a smirk on her face. She shrugged. "It's your dry cleaning bill."

"It is." Shaking her head, Rachel glanced at the door of Beiste's office. "I returned the shirt. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Really, don't." Studying Rachel, the woman's gaze drifted down to Rachel's legs.

Rachel's eyes widened. Was she… Was she _checking her out_? Stopping herself from taking a step back, Rachel tried to decipher the expression on the woman's face. Oh no. Was karma coming back for what she'd done to Sandy Ryerson? And if she was… How unprofessional _was_ this woman?

The woman crossed her arms. She tilted her head. "You're a runner."

Blinking, Rachel opened her mouth. Looking right and left, she asked incredulously, "How do you know that?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "I'm not just the new track coach for my looks, smokin' as they are. You have the physique. Not to mention the legs."

Track coach? Part of Rachel's discomfort eased, and she relaxed on her heels. But, "We have a track team?"

That made the newly identified track coach roll her eyes again. "_Yes_. Underutilized and underrepresented, but it exists. And under _me_," she smirked heavily, "We will become more than just the 'After School Losers'." Shaking her head, the woman walked forward, stopping just to the side of Rachel, "Santana Lopez is _not _going to be a coach to any _losers_."

_Santana Lopez_. _Finally_, Rachel had a name.

But Coach Lopez wasn't finished talking yet. She raised an eyebrow. "When do you run?"

Her tone didn't brook any chance to ignore the question. Rachel resettled her books in her arms. "I try to run every day."

"How long?"

"For at least an hour, longer on the weekends and when I have time or am working on a new solo for glee club. You'd be surprised at how much it helps to be running when trying to arrange vocal arrangements – "

Lopez raised her hand. "Unicorn, did I _ask_ for your life story?" She looked at Rachel pointedly. "_No_. And glee club. I should have known. Going for the ultimate 'Slushie Me' bull's-eye on your forehead, huh?"

U-_Unicorn_? Spluttering, Rachel drew herself up straight. "My _name_ is Rachel Berry."

"Fine. Berry." Completely ignoring Rachel's exasperation, the woman continued, "How far?"

…If this woman hadn't been a teacher, Rachel would have found some way to walk away already. Instead, she coolly met the coach's gaze, "Enough."

The woman's expression didn't change. "Do you run with anyone else?"

Scrunching her eyebrows together, Rachel shook her head. "No…"

Displeasure crossed the woman's face, and she took a step back. "Great," she seemed to whisper to herself before turning her eyes back to Rachel, "Guess I'll just have to make do with you. The track. After school. You're trying out." Then, without waiting for an answer, Coach Lopez gave her an arrogant smirk and disappeared into Coach Beiste's office.

Already turning to stomp after her – Rachel couldn't join track! She already had a full schedule! – the warning bell rang. Groaning loudly, Rachel glared at the open door and stormed off down the hall.

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><p>Though it didn't surprise her, Finn's skepticism and amusement at the new coach's demand still bothered her. "You? On the track team?" Grinning at her, her boyfriend shook his head, "You can barely watch me play basketball or football." Turning to Puck, he raised his voice, "Hey, is track even a sport?"<p>

Puck shrugged. "How should I know? I only watch for the girls running."

Rachel glared at Finn. "Just because it doesn't involve personal contact or violent bone-crushing impacts, does not mean it's not a sport, Finn." Not that she felt any loyalty to Coach Lopez or the track team, or anything like that, but Rachel was once again faced with the knowledge that if given a topic harder than "What color is this?" Finn was rather pinheaded and unimaginative.

"Don't be silly," Finn gave her his usual lopsided smile, leaning in to kiss her.

Melting immediately, Rachel lifted a hand to hold his head where it was, only letting it drop when Finn moved back. He smiled confidently, "At least it's not like you're trying out for cheerleading. Yeah, like _that's _a sport."

Rachel's mouth dropped open, and she pushed back from him, hitting the back of her chair. "Cheerleading's a _sport_, _too_," she exclaimed, "And, what, I wouldn't be able to become a cheerleader, either?"

Finn frowned. "Hey, don't put words in my mouth." His frown turned into a confused expression, "How is cheerleading a sport, again?"

Letting out a wordless huff, Rachel stood up from her chair. "You know what?" she asked, pushing her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms, "I am _going _to go to that try out. And when I get on the team – because I _am _– I am going to show you just how much of a sport track _is_." Advancing on Finn, she jutted her finger into his face, "And just for your information, I could become a cheerleader if I damn well wanted to. _Damn_ well." Scooping up her backpack, she glared at him, "That's two days in a row you can forget coming over, Finn."

Stomping past Quinn and Brittany as they walked into the choir room, Rachel stopped to stare at the two cheerleaders. "Good afternoon, ladies. May I just say congratulations on your last win at the Regional Cheerleading competition?" she stated firmly, glaring at Finn, "At least William McKinley has _one _sports team that are champions. Hopefully soon that'll become _two_."

As she exited into the hallway, she could hear Quinn's, "Okay, _what _just happened?"

"She's scary," Brittany replied, "But I think she complimented us…?"

Shaking her head, Rachel made her way to the girls' locker room.

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><p>"You're almost late. And you better have stretched already," Coach Lopez barked as Rachel drew near, tightening her ponytail. Tugging on it one more time for good measure, Rachel picked up her jog. Feeling undeniably scrutinized as the woman took in her P.E. shirt and shorts and athletic shoes, Rachel tried to keep herself from shivering in the cool fall wind, telling herself the blush caused by the woman's assessment of her was from the cold. "It's good I came here at all," she admitted, coming to a stop at the outer track line, "And I've stretched, some."<p>

"Hmm." Pulling her clipboard up, Lopez scratched a couple of things down, then turned dark eyes back onto her. "Okay, this is how this is gonna go. You do whatever I tell you to do. _Without_ complaining, or whining. You're what, fourteen?"

Rachel bristled. "_Sixteen_."

"Sophomore?"

"_Junior_."

A smile curled the corner of Lopez's lips, and she smirked at Rachel. "Imagine that. Must be your height."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Just how long have you been a teacher?"

"None of your business." Lowering her clipboard and pulling up the stopwatch hanging around her neck, the woman gestured at Rachel to pick one of the lanes, "One lap, warm up speed. When I say go, go." Barely giving her the chance to get into position, she called out, "_Go_."

Pushing off from the asphalt, Rachel drew her arms into her body and pulled her knees up, feet still slapping loud as she jogged at a relatively fast pace. Regulating her breathing as she made her way around the track, she wasn't surprised to see Coach Lopez practically tapping her foot, hand on her hip as she waited for her. Passing her and slowing down, Rachel turned back.

Looking at her stopwatch, the woman jotted another note down onto her clipboard. "Okay," she pointed Rachel at the start line again, giving nothing away with her expression, "Sprints. Go to the first quarter and come back. Got it?"

Setting her feet and arranging her fingers and palm, Rachel nodded.

"_Go_."

Running a couple of more drills and throwing out caustic remarks every now and again, which, while being mean and managing to make Rachel grit her teeth every now and again, _did _get Rachel to step up her speed, the track coach allowed Rachel to have a short break to head to the bathroom and grab a drink of water. When she trotted back up, using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth, Rachel groaned but dutifully got into position when the woman smirked evilly, telling her that she was going to run a mile, full speed. "The mile, then that's it for today. Jumps and other, prop related, try outs on another day."

Rachel groaned, "Another day?"

"Ey! That whining I hear, Miss Berry? What did I tell you?"

Grumbling, Rachel shifted her weight as she waited for the starting yell. It was a good thing she hadn't used up all of her energy already, but she knew she was still going to be _drenched _in sweat when this was all said and done. Ugh. Maybe she'd actually have to use the shower in the locker room –

"_Go_!"

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><p>The next morning, Rachel strode up to Finn's locker. When he looked up at her cleared throat, she immediately did a twirl to show him her new letterman jacket. "See?" she asked haughtily, lifting her chin, "I got on the team."<p>

"But… What about glee?" Finn protested, slamming his locker shut and following her to her own locker when she turned to go.

Rachel paused with her hands on the lock. "I don't know what you mean." Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she pulled her locker door open.

"_Glee_. _Singing_. Hello? How are you going to do both track _and _still give glee your all?"

Almost dropping the book she was putting into her backpack, Rachel slowly turned to her boyfriend. Taking in his severe look, she barely managed to keep her voice level, "Excuse me? Just _what_, exactly, are you asking me?"

As more time passed after Rachel's reveal, Finn seemed to be getting his second wind, and he straightened, giving her a pointed look. "Rachel, singing's your life. Glee's your life. If you split your attention, how are you going to do your job as a glee captain?"

Anger and disbelief curled around Rachel's heart. _Was_ Finn – he was _actually_ – Trying to rein in the shout that bubbled up in her body, Rachel turned to fully face Finn. "Tell me something, Finn," she crossed her arms, voice low and forcefully controlled, "Not only are you a co-captain of glee as well, but you're also the _quarterback_, Finn! Are you telling me that you're not giving glee your all?"

"What? No!" Trying to backpedal verbally, Finn shook his head. A wide frown across his face, his eyebrows lowered over his eyes, "That's completely different. Me and glee and football – that's completely different."

"Why?"

"_Because it is_!" Huffing, Finn closed his eyes, hand tightening around his backpack strap, "Rachel, look." He opened his eyes, "I'm used to it. I'm just saying that… With Sectionals coming up soon – "

"They're in three _months_," Rachel threw at him; though by no means that was a long amount of time, it was still sufficient enough to allow ample amount of time to practice an amazing routine that would guarantee them the win, so using the term _soon_ was ridiculous.

"Soon-_ish_," Finn amended, looking exasperated, "That you won't be able to focus and, and help our team to victory."

Rachel held up a hand. She couldn't believe she was hearing this. "So," she barely got out calmly, "Because I would be involved with another extracurricular activity, I wouldn't be concentrating on glee enough?" The words tasted like bile in her mouth.

Slowly, as if he was expecting a booby-trap, Finn nodded.

That did it. "I already _have _extracurricular activities!" she burst out, voice rising, just barely stopping herself from jumping into her boyfriend's face, "May I remind you I'm in _all_ of the clubs on this campus? That I'm _also_ enrolled in ballet and often compete in ballet competitions? That I'm still even singing in _singing competitions_?"

Sucking in a deep breath, she cut Finn off before he could open his mouth, "And what is it _you_ do? Practices three times a week, one or two games a week? Wow. That's a lot. Really, it is. It's not like you have _every single one of your days busy like I do_!"

Finn's jaw clenched, and as he looked around to see who was watching them, he lowered his voice, sharp and cruel, "Why are you being so _selfish_, Rachel?"

_Selfish_?

Throwing his hands up, Finn took her stunned silence as a chance to get his say out, "See? You're already doing so much. How can you hope to keep glee above them all? _It's not like anything else you're doing is important_."

Rachel's palm exploded into heat as she watched in morbid satisfaction as Finn's face whipped back. "Leave," she pushed out through a closed throat, her voice never having sounded as livid as it did at that moment, "Walk away."

Slowly turning back to her, Finn raised a hand to his cheek. "Rache," he started, face going slack with shock and sudden realization, "I didn't mean – "

_Yes you did_. "_Go_."

"Rache – "

"Get _out_ of here, Finn!"

Finally, he did, slinking down the hall. Watching his tall frame get smaller the farther he got, Rachel mechanically finished getting her books she needed for that day, shutting and locking her locker before making her way to the nearest bathroom.

That was three days in a row she'd gotten angry at Finn, that he'd managed to insult her. He had never been the smoothest guy, unintentionally putting her down many times, and she'd managed to brush them off for the most part. But not lately.

Lately, it had hurt more. And she didn't know why.

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><p>"Hey! Berry. The rest of your try out today, along with meeting the rest of the team."<p>

Startled, Rachel broke out of the flow of students, quickly walking back the way she had come to catch up with Coach Lopez. "Today?" she used as a greeting, noting the raised eyebrow that got, "I can't do it today."

"Because…?"

"Because I'll already have had P.E. as my last class, right before I have to meet you out at the track."

Lopez shook her head. "Field, not track."

Okay, like that was better. "Field. Meet you on the field." When the woman didn't respond, still looking at her with that one eyebrow up, Rachel sighed. "I'll be too exhausted."

"Oh, is that all?" Stopping suddenly, making Rachel come to a quick stop as well, Coach Lopez leaned in close. "Berry," she lowered her voice, smirking, "Haven't you heard the saying 'No pain, no gain'? Well, apply that here."

Staring at the older woman, taking in her arrogant expression and flawless beauty, Rachel felt a strange feeling start to coil in her stomach. "But…" she tried to get out.

Lopez shook her head. "Nope. At least you won't have to change and risk being late, huh?" Straightening, she tilted her head. "You like that letterman jacket, don't you?"

Her tone made it clear she already knew the answer, but Rachel nodded anyway, trying to swallow the feeling away. "I, uhm, I'm already being treated a little better," she admitted.

"And no slushie facials?" The knowing look came back to her coach's eyes when Rachel sheepishly nodded. "Exactly. And to keep that…" she pointed at Rachel, "You's best be there after school."

Again with the outrageous dialect. This woman truly was the strangest teacher Rachel had ever known. And with teachers like Sandy Ryerson and Sue Sylvester and Ken Tanaka and Emma Pillsbury and William Schuester and practically every other teacher that was or had been working at the school, that was saying something. Honestly, Rachel thought maybe it was because Coach Lopez was trying too hard, the weird slang. Because if that truly was the woman's daily vernacular – heaven forbid! – that would just be sad.

But… Sighing, Rachel dropped her shoulders. "I'll be there," she reluctantly nodded; maybe she could ask the P.E. teacher to go light on her that day. That wouldn't be so bad.

"Of course you will." Throwing up a hand in a flippant goodbye, the coach gave her an amused at her expense smirk, sauntering off.

Once again watching someone walk off, Rachel drew in a deep breath. She had a lot to think about.

She had joined the track team, she and her boyfriend were fighting over said track team, and Santana Lopez, the young new track coach for William McKinley High School who _did _look strikingly enough like Naya Rivera, Rachel allowed, was completely equipped with the means to throw Rachel off her even keel.

In no uncertain terms, that particular meeting of elements was probably more dangerous than she could predict.


	2. First Kiss

**A/N: **Next entry is here! And I guess I need to say this: all these one-shots are their own universe, none related to the other.

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><p><strong>First Kiss<strong>

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><p>Nine months after Rachel moved to New York and six months after moving in with Santana, she had finally had enough.<p>

"All's I'm saying," Santana shrugged, taking a bite of her chow mein and swallowing, "Is what the giant don't know won't hurt him. You see someone who ignites your lady loins, go for it."

"_Enough_!" Slapping her chopsticks down, Rachel slammed her carton of white rice down next to them. "Santana, that's _enough_."

Flinching, Santana dropped her own chopsticks into her chow mein and set it down. Working her tongue in her mouth, she gave Rachel a cool stare. "God, what the hell's up your butt?"

Narrowing her eyes, Rachel took a deep breath. "Santana, I am going to ask nicely – as nicely as I _can _– for you to _stop telling me to cheat on Finn_. I love him. I'm _engaged _to him. Do you not see this ring?" She flung her hand up, almost slapping Santana in the face, "And, and even if I'm currently here and Finn's in Lima, I'm going to stay _true to him_."

"Oh yeah, like _he's_ staying _faithful_ to _you_," Santana barked. If Rachel hadn't already been staring at her, the sudden twisting of her face into a harsh expression would have made her do so anyway. "How do you know he is, Rachel? Huh? How do you know?"

"How do _you_ know he's **_not_**?" As the yell left her mouth, Rachel tried to figure out how it had gotten this far.

She and Santana had formed an unlikely partnership in the second half of their senior year, each girl finding something in each other that they understood. Stubbornness, a drive to succeed, the unfailing knowledge that they were going places, and that they _were_ someone… And that they both knew they were leaving the loves of their lives behind while they set out to prove it.

To do that, Rachel had left for New York a month after graduation, Santana a month later. Though neither girl had seriously talked about moving in with each other, a series of events had ended up forcing the situation. Having been living in an apartment halfway supported by her fathers, Rachel had been forced to move when the whole building had been shut down due to an unfortunate case of toxic mold being found in the air vents. Suddenly homeless and reeling over such short notice to have another homestead set up, Rachel hadn't objected too strenuously when her friend and frequent lunch partner had practically picked her up and dropped her onto her extra futon.

For the first two months, it was definitely a learning experience. Even though both girls were more relaxed and friendly around each other, their growing friendship had taken some hits and dings. Rachel had threatened to move out more than once, and Santana had even egged her on to do it after a horrible day of classes. Luckily, the experience had only made their friendship stronger. Once they'd realized the reality that they would clash – often and passionately – they only had to accept the reality that they were going to make up often and passionately as well.

Like their fight over Rachel's celibacy. Three months after Rachel had moved in, she'd had to weather the storm of Santana and Brittany's incredibly painful hold on their relationship, easier for Santana to break up with the blonde completely than accept an open relationship. Though it wasn't anything specific that prompted the decision (Rachel honestly hoped not, for both girls' sake), it hadn't stopped Santana's paranoia from rising. "If Britts… If Britts cheated on me," Santana slurred one night, hoisting her beer bottle up at Rachel as she passed by on her way to grab her a glass of water, "Then being celibate's over-overrated. I tried that, you know? With Britts. First relationship I tried. First…" The girl started crying, big tears running down her cheeks, "First person I _loved_. So… Not gonna try that again." She dropped the now empty bottle of beer and practically slid onto Rachel's lap when she sat down next to her, bawling into her shoulder, "You… You have to agree with me. You _have _to."

"Why?" Rachel whispered, rubbing her back, "Why do I have to agree with you?"

Santana sniffled, arms tightening around Rachel's neck, "Because I… I don't want to… I don't want to be _alone_ anymore."

After that night, two months of revolving one night stands happened, Santana often pestering Rachel to go to parties with her, to be her wingman. It wasn't unusual for the taller girl to be absent days in a row, or Rachel to wake up in the morning to find scantily clad exceedingly gorgeous woman hanging all over Santana in the kitchen.

Though Rachel didn't condone her actions, as long as Santana was safe and attending all of her classes, then she knew Santana was an adult and could take care of herself. Still, Santana's overtly sexual conduct eased the night Santana came home to find Rachel in her face, shoving a bag of pills at her. Demanding to know if she was a druggie or not so she knew if she should find a new place to live, Rachel had watched a look of shock cross over Santana's face. She reached forward to take the bag, then immediately turned on her heel to flush the contents down the toilet. "I'm done," she told Rachel, wrapping her arms around her waist when she was finished, cracking a smile, "Though, you know, it's _your _fault if whoever those belonged to comes back looking for 'em."

That wasn't to say Santana didn't date, because she did. She just seemed to concentrate on Rachel and her lack of sex more. Rachel hadn't known what to think about it, to be honest, not knowing if it was just the other girl's way to cope with finally dealing with her issues.

At first, it'd been easy to brush off (especially when she'd initially thought it was just a rude joke), but now it was like whichever boy Rachel smiled at, or talked to, Santana was leaning in behind her, whispering for her to _just_ _go for it_. No matter how many fake smiles or rebuffs Rachel sent her way, Santana wouldn't listen to her. Having kept her tongue for the most part because she knew Santana was still hurting over Brittany and it was probably some strange kind of coping mechanism, Rachel finally couldn't take it anymore.

Hence her overly dramatic outburst.

Rachel's words echoed around the room. Looking sharp and severe and suddenly filled with more emotion than Rachel could understand, Santana nodded jerkily. "Fine," she pushed out, voice low and deep, "You're right. I don't know if he's not."

…Rachel hadn't been expecting that. "Well," she breathed in, looking down to concentrate on the haphazard position her chopsticks had rolled into before slowly looking back up to meet Santana's lowered head, "Thank you."

Santana sniffed. "Sure." Pressing her palm into the coffee table, she pushed herself up. Looking lost and angry… _No_. Rachel stared at her. She was angry at _herself_. "I'm gonna go out."

"San?" Rachel rose.

"No." The word huskier than either girl expected, Santana raised a hand like she was pressing against the air to keep Rachel back. She moved her jaw, but no more words came out, and her lips twisted as she shook her head. Turning to the coat rack and bowl by the door that held her set of keys, she picked them up. "God, you're so _stupid_," she hissed at herself.

This was _not _the reaction Rachel would have expected. Where was the normal anger, the scathing remarks that Rachel was _used _to? Dread welled up in her body, confusion like a cloud settling uncomfortably in her mind. Rachel's eyes caught on Santana's unfinished chow mein. She used that as an excuse to try and hold Santana back, "But you haven't finished your food."

One of Santana's shoulders shrugged. "Not hungry."

"_San_."

"_No_, Rachel." Her hand slipping from the doorknob, Santana twisted to glare at her; her eyes looked like they didn't know if they should be sad or angry, "You've made it abundantly clear that for _now_, at least, it would be better for me _not_ to be here. Why don't you go and call your _fiancé_?" Snarling the last word, Santana turned back to the door.

_Santana_. "Why does this mean so much to you?" Rachel raised her voice, stalking up to her. Her hand flying out to catch the door as Santana yanked it open, she ignored the smack of wood against her palm and the resulting shudder of impact shaking her arm. "If this is still about _Brittany_ – "

"It's not about Brittany."

The lack of vehemence in Santana's voice made Rachel's verbal attack on the tip of her tongue fizzle out. Keeping her hand on the door, she searched dark, shielded eyes. "Then… Then what is this about?"

Santana didn't answer.

"Is this about Finn?" Rachel knew Santana and Finn had never really gotten along, but their antagonism had seemed to cool in the past year.

Santana's lips tightened, but she shook her head.

"Then… Is it about me?"

Santana averted her gaze.

The bottom dropped out of Rachel's stomach, and she moved her hand from the door up to her mouth. "This… Is about me?" _How _could this be about her? The only thing Rachel could think made her gasp. Her other hand grasped her shirt. "You really think so little of me that I'd so easily cheat on Finn?" she whispered, hurt only growing when Santana flinched but didn't deny it. "What?" her voice rose again, "You think I should just get it over with because it's an _inevitability_?"

"_No_!" Strong hands were suddenly cupped around the sides of her head, pushing her jaw up firmly but gently enough not to hurt her, Santana cradling her face. Her eyes burned into hers, and the girl let out an almost amused laugh, sounding like it was coming directly from her chest. "Sometimes," she whispered, studying Rachel intently, eyebrows low and tight over her eyes, "You're so smart it's scary." Her lips tried to quirk up, and Rachel's gaze dropped to watch them. "But sometimes," Santana breathed, making Rachel look up again, "You can be so _stupid_."

And then firm lips were pressed into her own, Santana's eyelashes brushing against her skin. Not moving, just a desperate pressure, like Santana _needed_ Rachel to know she was there. Rachel could smell Santana's chapstick, feel her breath rush across her cheek, see how hard Santana had her eyes clamped shut.

It was beautifully tragic.

But… Santana.

Closing her eyes, Rachel gently brushed her fingers along Santana's knuckles.

A tear slipped down Santana's cheek, and she pulled back. More tears swam in her eyes, and Rachel's heart thumped at the sadness coiling deep inside the dark gaze. "I tell you to cheat," she whispered, using one thumb to softly stroke Rachel's cheek, "Because if you can cheat with someone else…" She smiled sadly, dropping her hands and finishing pulling the door open, "You can cheat with me."

Rachel's heart squeezed. _Santana_…

Taking a step out into the hallway, Santana gave Rachel another sad, resigned smile. "Don't wait up."

"Santana!"

Santana shook her head, "I'll be back, Rachel. Just… Don't wait up."

Rachel forced herself to breathe out, sinking back on her heels. She understood. "Okay. Be careful."

Santana's answer was a tight, fake smirk as she turned away, "Aren't I always?"

Neither girl was surprised by the silence that followed after her.

_If she was, that wouldn't have happened._


	3. Starting a Family

**A/N: **Because of circumstances, not only am I late with Pezberry Week, but I'm also going to post these out of order. I hope you can forgive me.

Also, this was co-written with the lovely kingcyrus. :D

* * *

><p><strong>Starting a Family<strong>

* * *

><p>Santana watched her pacing wife with barely hidden amusement as Rachel walked from their closet to Santana's dresser to her jewelry box to the bathroom before restarting the whole circuit.<p>

"I knew this dress wasn't going to work. Why did I pick it?"

"Because I picked it out and you look amazingly stunning," Santana replied, resting her head on her fist.

"Damn it! There's simply not enough time to coordinate another outfit!"

"You could just wear the dark blue dress instead since you're already wearing silver highlights."

"What if they don't like the movie? What if they think I completely bungled the role?"

"Rache, you know you were flawless. Spring Awakening is your baby and the rest of the cast and everyone who's anyone knows that."

"It's going to get completely canned."

Santana sighed, then said, "I want to start a family with you."

Rachel finally turned her attention to her, completely unfazed by the quick emotional 180. "Santana, I would gratefully appreciate it if you would keep your commentary to yourself. Ordinarily I find it quite humorous and entertaining but now is not the time nor is it the place!"

Santana raised an unimpressed eyebrow and merely waited.

Rachel continued on her tangent, undeterred by Santana's lack of resistance. " – And further _more _- - ! What did you say?" she asked, eyes wide.

Santana shrugged. "I didn't stutter."

Rachel's mouth parted. "…What?"

"I want to start a family with you. Can you suddenly not hear?" Santana rolled her eyes.

"Santana, that's not funny. Not tonight."

"Who said I was joking?" Santana's face was fully serious, not a hint of kidding smile in sight.

And she was serious. After watching Beth grow up, and then helping Puck with his twin male munchkins (Lauren was _not_ happy that he'd managed to give her twins when she had been hoping for a baby girl), the seed had been planted, not helped in the least by babysitting Kurt and Dave's kid since Rachel was godmother.

Still paused in mid step, Rachel stared at her. "…You're really serious, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm serious. I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't. You know that. Should know that." Standing up, Santana walked over to Rachel wrapping her arms around her waist. She raised her eyebrow, "Don't you know that?"

"But… The movie…" Rachel mumbled, reaching up to play with the straps of Santana's dress, "I'm, I'm trying to concentrate on the movie. You _can't_… Not now. Not _this_ conversation _now_."

Santana frowned. "You don't want to have a family with me?"

"What? No! Of course I do."

Success! "Then let's have this conversation now." Leading Rachel over to the bed, Santana pulled her down with her.

"Santana!" Protesting, Rachel glared at her. "Just because I _do _want a family with you doesn't give you the right to spring _the _baby conversation on me now! Are you not listening?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening," Santana waved her hand flippantly, "But _you're _not listening to _me_. Think about it. You have the next year off of Broadway to concentrate on publicity for the movie. Perfect timing for makin' a little monster with me."

"Wait a minute. Who's says _I'm_ going to be the one carrying the baby?"

Rachel received a pointed look in return. "Babe. Seriously. Me? For the second one, _maybe_."

Rachel blinked wordlessly, the corners of her mouth pinching. She huffed, "Why is there suddenly more than one when we haven't even agreed on the first? _Or _agreed who'd carry?"

"I thought we already went over this..."

"Santana!" Rachel shouted in frustration, hands coming up to grip her hair before seemingly remembering just how much effort and how long it had taken to fix it. "We will discuss this _later_. And be assured it will be in _great_ _detail_!" she announced, poking Santana's exposed sternum. Then, her eyes strayed to the nearest clock. She squeaked, jumping up. "Oh my goodness, it's that time already? We have to leave!"

Santana rose with a smirk, dramatically putting on a yawn. "If her highness is ready. And by the way, you're not stressed out about the movie anymore, are you?" she tossed over her shoulder, waiting at the door.

Pausing from one last glance in the mirror, Rachel shook her head as if coming from a daze, smiling brilliantly at her wife. "You are the best," she said, closing the distance between their bodies and lips, Santana hmming in return as she was careful not to damage the brunette's carefully applied makeup, "And I love you for it."

"But I'm still not off the hook," Santana guessed.

Rachel's smile was a little wicked, just enough to ignite that always burning flame in the pit of her stomach, "Not even close."

The extra obvious sashay in her hips drew Santana's eyes down, and she could only grunt.

However the night went (though it was, like, a forgone conclusion that Rachel would blow the critics away), she smirked, lengthening her stride to gallantly hold her wife's coat up for her, she knew Rachel would be underneath her that night. Just like she knew she should be confident in her ability to convince Rachel to carry their first (every) child.

Unseen, her own smirk turned sultry as the gears in her mind started turning towards their new task. One way or the other, she was going to knock her wife up. Hopefully many, many times, with many, many positions.

It was just as well that Rachel was taking a break. Her vocal chords would need the rest.


	4. Graduation

**A/N: **I know, two months plus late. These themes are being stubborn. This one I stared at until I finally threw my hands up and posted it. XD

**Warning:** This one is a girl!peen smut fic. So if you don't like it, you don't have to read it. This will be the only one of the collection.

* * *

><p><strong>Graduation<strong>

* * *

><p>Somehow, Santana had convinced her to take a midnight trip back to William McKinley High the evening of their graduation. Slipping in through the hole cut into the fence on the backside of the football field, Santana looked back and motioned for Rachel to follow her. "C'mon," she whispered, being nice enough to pull one side of the chain links back, "You're being a pussy."<p>

"_Must _you be so vulgar?" Rachel whispered back, glaring at her but giving in and sliding her body sideways in. Tensing as the fence rolled back shut, she looked around. "It's so quiet…" she turned to Santana, "And dark."

"Psh. The security lights are on. You'll be able to see perfectly well." Wrapping her hand around Rachel's, Santana leaned in to kiss her soundly. "Now, let's be going! I wants to get my alumni sexin' on."

Rachel lengthened her stride to keep up with her. "Santana, we are _not_ going to have sex _anywhere_ on this campus."

"That's what you say _now_."

Suppressing a smile at her girlfriend's insatiable sexual appetite, Rachel didn't answer.

The campus was eerily empty, like a ghost town, even the numerous chairs and podium already cleared from the field. Feeling a little too exposed as they trotted through the grass, Rachel breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the school proper. Still, "You sure there're no security guards?" Rachel asked, tugging on Santana's hand to slow her.

"Babe, relax." Putting her other hand out to test the door that led into the senior hall even though it was clearly padlocked shut, Santana's eyes narrowed when it didn't even budge, "It's already past their bedtime. I's got this covered." Looking around the near outside lockers, she zeroed in on the one closest to the door. "Alright! They haven't bothered to clear these out yet."

Watching Santana quickly spin open the lock, Rachel nervously looked around. "What are you doing?"

"Getting us inside, duh." Reaching into the now opened locker and rummaging through various crumpled papers and random refuse, Santana shot Rachel a look, eyes glinting in the low light. Letting out a small 'ahah!' she pulled out a small cloth bag. "Thank you, Puck, you're not a _total _waste of brains," she whispered exultantly, "…Even if you were stupid enough to forget this here."

"_Inside_?" Rachel crossed her arms. "We are _not _going to break in."

Taking a key from the bag, Santana ignored her.

"No, San, please. We're already late for the party."

Inserting the key into the padlock, Santana jiggled it for a second. "It's a whole weekend party," she muttered, smirking broadly when the lock opened. She slid the chains apart, "And you _really _would rather play nursemaid to idiots you've spent three years with than…" Santana approached Rachel, putting her hands on her hips and pulling her closer, lowering her voice even more, "Feeling me between your thighs?"

"Mmm… That isn't fair." Leaning up to draw Santana's tongue into her mouth, Rachel wrapped her arms around her neck. Santana had the most amazing kisses. The most amazing _tongue_. So good it almost made her forget about where they were and the laws they were breaking.

_Almost_.

Hearing a scraping noise from behind them, Rachel's breath hitched, and she whirled around. "What was that?"she tensed, almost squealing when Santana's arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back around.

"Heyy," Santana kissed her soundly, "Don't go alerting everyone we're here. Do you _want _to be caught?"

"But what _was_ that?"

Sighing, Santana shook her head. "Babe, look." She turned Rachel around, nudging her head down to see a lone leaf skittering across the ground. Barely waiting for her to realize what it was she was seeing, she then retook Rachel's hand and pulled her into the school.

* * *

><p>"Santana…"<p>

"Hmm?" The soles of her high heeled boots somehow quieter than the clacking of Rachel's sandals, Santana seemed to be barely listening as she led Rachel in the direction of the choir room and auditorium, seemingly unbothered by the long shadows and gloom of the hallway. It was obvious she'd done this before.

"San, please. I'm not comfortable."

"Why?"

Surprised at the question, Rachel stopped walking, tightening her grip to make Santana stop with her. "San…"

"No, seriously," Santana frowned, taking a step to close the distance between them, other hand coming up to rest on Rachel's hip. "Baby," she lowered her head, looking up at Rachel, "Don't you trust me?"

"You know I do."

"Then what's your problem? Hmm?" Moving her head so her lips brushed along Rachel's nose, Santana smiled. "You can't tell me you's not be wanting to do this. You're the one who brought it up in the first place, aren't you?"

Rachel sighed. "You know that was under the influence of too much alcohol and the false security of Truth or Dare."

Santana snorted, turning and moving her hand so it slid behind Rachel's back, ushering her forward. "Security? It's not like _anyone_ cares that you, my little Valedictorian, have a fantasy of me making you have a screaming orgasm on Mr. Schuester's desk. Seriously." She grinned at Rachel, bumping their hips together, "Puck's already begged for video."

"So _that's_ why you punched him in the gut?" Rachel asked, nodding and answering her own question, "Okay. Then I take my protest back. He deserved it."

Swooping down to kiss Rachel's cheek, "Damn right," Santana looked up and around. Rachel got a bad feeling in her stomach when a completely _scheming _expression settled on her girlfriend's face. She snapped her eyes to Rachel's. "Okay," she started, voice deep and velvety, the girl leaning forward and starting to rub her hands up and down Rachel's sides, "Baby, I know you said _Mr. Schuester's_ desk…"

"Oh no."

"But…"

"No. _No_. Whatever you have to suggest, _no_."

"But I really want to fuck on Sue's desk!" Santana all but whined, looking determined and severe.

Rachel's mouth dropped open. "Santana!" she hissed, lowering her voice when it bounced along the empty halls, "That's like Principal Figgins' desk. Even _worse _than his desk!"

Sucking in a deep breath, Santana sat back on her heels. "Babe, you didn't have to deal with Mr. Schuester for four years. I practically was under Sue's thumb for _five_." At Rachel's look, she rolled her eyes, "I was training even before I left junior high."

"Oh." Rachel couldn't even _begin _to figure out how that would have been.

"So you see? C'mon. She _totally _deserves it. Hell, _I _deserve it. The head cheerleader and the thorn in her side captain of the glee club doin' the nasty on the place she writes out her _crazy _diary entries? She'll have a whole _litter _of kittens she can give to Mr. Schuester before beating him up!"

It was almost amusing at how passionate Santana was being about this. But. Rachel shook her head. She reached out, curling her fingers in Santana's top, meeting her gaze directly, "But this is _Sue Sylvester's desk_. Her _office_. Do you _honestly _think she won't have any security measures set up to stop anyone from entering, or, or, _defiling _her desk?"

But instead of backing down, Santana's smirk grew. "That's not a no."

"What? Y-yes it is! It's _not _happening, San, okay? I'm sorry, but, but no. Maybe this whole thing is stupid…"

Santana studied her, frowning, looking ready to make some sort of scathing remark, when she abruptly dropped and swept Rachel up into her arms. Avoiding her instinctual flailing of her arms before wrapping them around her neck, Santana's smirk came back as she started jogging down the halls. "God, I love that you're so _tiny_," she chuckled.

"Only three inches shorter," Rachel mumbled crossly at the old argument, nipping at Santana's neck.

"Whoah! Babe!" Her long strides stuttering for a second after the bite, Santana glanced down at her. Her eyes looked even darker than they had before in the gloom. She stopped walking, tightening her arms around Rachel, and lowered her head. "Do you know how much I want you?" she asked.

Rachel closed her eyes, heart jumping. She swallowed. "Maybe you should show me?" she asked, curling her fingers up to scratch along the back of Santana's neck and lower scalp.

Closing her own eyes, Santana sucked air in through her teeth. "Whose. Desk?" she grunted.

Looking at the strong line of Santana's jaw, eyes tracing up to the lips slightly parted as Santana's tongue darted out to wet them, Rachel reached up to kiss them. "Sue's."

* * *

><p>Santana's hands thrust under Rachel's shirt, pushing it up as Rachel arched against her, not wanting to stop kissing her to allow the shirt over her head. "C'mon, babe," Santana grinned, sucking Rachel's lower lip into her mouth, "Let me get at 'em. Auntie 'Tana needs her berries."<p>

"_San_," Rachel groaned, pressing her knees into the sides of Santana's thighs to help hold herself up as Santana _finally _tugged her shirt off of her, "I – I, let me _feel_ you."

Throwing Rachel's shirt behind her, Santana pushed forward, making Rachel slide back. A rattle, clatter, and something fell to the floor, but neither paid attention because Santana's mouth was all over Rachel's breasts, hands pushing and pulling her support camisole out of the way, "God, why isn't this _off_, yet?", before Rachel moved back to pull it up.

"San, San," Rachel moaned, hands burying into Santana's hair as she covered a nipple with her mouth, "D-don't take it off. Just, just in case."

"Mmm, mhmm," Santana hummed into her breast, not really paying attention because she was already under Rachel's skirt, shoving it to bunch around her upper thighs, "Up, up."

Canting her hips to help, Rachel kept her eyes on her girlfriend, thrilling at each touch and sound coming from her; they were in Sue's office, she was half-naked in Sue's office, and while she was still a little nervous, she couldn't deny she was already completely wet. Snaking her arms back around Santana's shoulders, Rachel whispered throatily in her ear, "How hard are you?"

A low chuckle left Santana's mouth, and she moved a hand up to find one of Rachel's, pushing her palm into the waist of her own skirt, slowly pushing her down.

Pressing forward, Rachel's fingers tingled from the feeling through the fabric, and she closed her eyes, mming. "Now," she smiled, looking up at Santana through her eyelashes, "What would Coach Sylvester say if she ever knew what her head cheerleader was packing?"

"It's a good thing she didn't," Santana smirked, "Or else she might have asked _me _to father her baby."

"_Santana_!" Making a face, Rachel accepted the laughing kiss Santana gave her, gladly letting her hold her up while she searched for the zipper of her skirt. The air was a little cool in Sue's office, but Santana's skin was still burning hot, and after getting her skirt done, Rachel pulled her blouse off of her.

"Do you, uhm, need more?" Santana murmured, laying Rachel back against the desk, something else rolling and crashing to the floor. Ignoring that as well, Santana was already pushing her special underwear down her hips, "'Cuz babe, I gots to say that I just wanna be _in _you already. I don't mind some eatin', but – "

Rachel cut her off by wrapping her legs around her hips, scooting down so her head wasn't attempting to hang off the end anymore. "No," she swallowed, breath starting to hitch, looking around Sue's office before meeting Santana's shining dark eyes as her heart pounded harder, "I'm ready." It was embarrassing to admit, but she'd been wet since Santana had pulled up to the school, teasing her about her fantasy. And with the reality of it happening _now…_

Santana's fingers grazed along her underwear, then hooked into the top. Then they were off, the cool air kissing her wetness. Santana's hand was placed next to Rachel's hip, her other below Rachel's line of sight. And, with an adjustment of stance, a hissed, "Jesus, you really _are _fuckin' ready, baby, aren't you?" Santana was sliding along her.

"_San_," Rachel almost-whined, body jerking with surprise and want, fingers digging into Santana's upper arms as she was already pulsing and hot, "Baby, _please_." Her abs tensed in anticipation, and she sucked in a deep breath when Santana's hand curled around her hip. She widened the space between her legs, trying to roll her hips when Santana moved into place, starting to press forward. "Too slow," she protested, "Need you."

"Then come here." Voice husky, Santana abandoned what she was doing only long enough to wrap her arms around Rachel's back, pulling her up. As she did so, the friction between them sliding along each other made the both of them gasp, and when Rachel kissed her neck, she moved back just enough to be where she needed to be. Then, urging Rachel's head up, kissing her deeply, Santana pushed forward as she pulled Rachel onto her.

Rachel moaned in the back of her throat, and she used Santana's shoulders to lift herself into a better position, gasping and squeezing around Santana as she moved deeper inside her, hot and thick and _perfect_. Santana's arms slowly dropped to splay her hands on the desk top, and she pressed another strong kiss to Rachel's mouth. "Thank god for Sue's desk to be perfect height, huh?" she grinned, "Just like the," she surged forward, and Rachel's head dropped back hips rolling as she concentrated on breathing, "The piano."

"Oh, Sa-San, _mmm_," Rachel verbally agreed, grateful for the desk under her ass as she took in the upside down trophy case vibrating in front of her eyes with every thrust as Santana slowly filled her over and over again, "_You_…" Oh, it wasn't going to take _long…_

"Yeah. Me. Fuckin' _you_ on Coach Sylvester's _desk_…" Santana sucked in a breath, "_Fuck_, you are so _hot_." Hunching her back, she bowed her head, licking along Rachel's neck. "Mmm… Baby…"

When Santana twisted her hips, Rachel whimpered, dragging her fingernails along any expanse of skin she could reach, sitting back up and pushing against Santana's abs and chest, smashing her head against the side of Santana's head. Breathing in the scent of her shampoo and perfume and _her_, Rachel shuddered, scrabbling at Santana's back when she hit _that _spot. "_Oh_!" she squealed, squealing again when Santana hit it again, and again, pushing deep and hard, speeding up as Rachel's walls quivered around her as she pushed them apart. "Yes, here," she panted, "Here, on this desk. Make me – ah! – f-_finish_."

Santana slammed into her, their hips crashing, Rachel's heels bouncing against the back of her legs. Hands coming up to grip Rachel's ass and hips, moving, moving, grunting as she peppered Rachel's skin with kisses and nips, gasping into Rachel's mouth when she found her, her thrusts started to stagger, and she pulsed, so thick and high in Rachel's belly. "_Touch yourself_," she hissed, pressing her forehead to Rachel's, bangs crushed between them, noses rubbing as their breath played hot over each other, mixing.

Sliding her hand down and around Santana's back, slick with rising sweat and moaning at the play of muscles under her palm, Rachel juddered at the first touch of her fingers to her clit. Rocking against her fingers, pushed tight with each thrust of Santana, trapped between their lower stomachs and thrumming with energy, Rachel bit into Santana's neck, below her ear.

"_Ah, fuck_," Santana grunted, slamming harder and harder, faster, more things falling off the desk and the glass panes of the trophy case starting to shake. Their voices and bodies were loud in the silence, and Rachel was winding tighter and tighter, gasping Santana's name with each ragged breath she was able to take in. Santana was so strong and unrelenting inside of her, sliding and pushing and filling her and her arms were shaking as she pulled Rachel closer and she was bigger and deeper and Rachel loved her and every time was amazing and _oh my god_ Rachel loved _this_ and this was _it_, _it was really it _as she tumbled and fell off the edge, muffling her scream into Santana's skin as she clamped down, exploding, milking Santana who was shaking, as tight against her as she could be, as far into her as she could be, stretching and coming, the heat inside Rachel almost scalding and she was moaning and kissing Rachel's cheek and nose and mouth and her tongue and body and _oh god Rachel wanted to never be anywhere else_.

Finally… _Finally_, "Hey…" Santana sighed, leaning most of her weight on Rachel, hands back against the desk top; she softly kissed Rachel's lips, smiling so beautiful and sated and completely satisfied, "I love you."

Gladly taking Santana's weight and enjoying feeling her heart thudding against her chest, skin slick and still humming with energy, Rachel smiled back, heart fluttering, "I love you too."

Santana's lips quirked. "Forever?"

Rachel's smile grew. "Forever," she agreed, drawing Santana into another kiss. "I'm not letting you go."

* * *

><p>"Santana! We <em>broke <em>her pencil sharpener!" Rachel shrilled, staring at the broken metal and plastic device she held in her hand, pencil shavings and pieces littered along the floor.

Santana, behind her, head tilted as she watched Rachel's ass move as she collected what she could find, smirked. "That all?" she asked.

"_No_," Rachel accused, "Her lamp's also down here, which, through some twist of fate, didn't break its light bulb." Twisting to slide it towards Santana, she caught her leer. "_Really_?" she frowned at her girlfriend.

"It would be a crime _not to_," Santana grinned, but bent down to pick up the lamp. Studying it, she looked like she was mentally predicting how much it was worth, then shrugged, "Kay, eBay it is. Same with the pencil sharpener. Anything _else_?"

Standing up, Rachel brushed off her knees. "No, thankfully. Just some random papers and pens, as well as a couple of books. We managed to keep _that_," she pointed at a heavy trophy Santana remembered from her freshman year situated awfully close to one end of the desk, "From falling, thankfully. Somehow."

Santana's arm suddenly snaked around her waist. "From the way you were moving, _oh yeah_ it was somehow."

Slapping her palm onto Santana's shoulder, Rachel hid her grin by kissing Santana. "_Your_ fault," she murmured.

"Nope. Yours. If you weren't so fucking _sexy_, that wouldn't have happened."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "So you only like me for my looks?"

Santana smirked. "Do you want me to lie?"

Before Rachel could respond, there was a click, crackle, and then light flooded the room, Sue Sylvester's voice suddenly booming from somewhere over the trophy case, "_It isn't enough that you two exhibitionistic fornicators disgustingly grunt and hump all over my desk, but now you're engaging in the repulsive, vomit-inducing language known as '**teen love**'? **Santana**_."

Santana froze, standing up straight, hand almost crushing the lamp she still held. "Coach?" she addressed the air as Rachel searched, still blinking from the sudden light, for whatever it was Sue's voice was coming from.

"_Bravo on finding someone who not only can put up with your **sandbags**, but apparently your other… **Equipment **as well. I wouldn't have thought that would have been possible, except perhaps by the medicine men that live in the deep, dark jungle where I spent my youth learning how to survive in the wilderness. Or William. I've always thought there was something off about that Ellis of his._"

'Is this really happening?' Rachel mouthed to Santana.

Santana jerked her head to the side. "Yes, Coach," she managed to get out, panic starting to edge onto her face, warring with her severe frown.

"_Oh don't give my office wall that look_," Sue chided, "_Why would I share your dirty not-so-little secret when blackmail could work **wonders**? And you. Diva_."

Rachel nodded. "Yes?" she called out as confidently as she could, fixing her gaze on a spot on the wall that looked like a small black dot.

"_I have to applaud the **audacity **you've exhibited by breaking into my office. I think I may have underestimated you. Now, if you two wish to **not **be chased by the attack dogs I have trained in the art of Brazilian Canine Jujitsu and keep in the basement for times such as these, I suggest you two leave before I let them into the series of tunnels that will bring them **directly** into your path. Oh, and **you better replace EVERYTHING you two touched before the weekend is over**! I will **not **have your juices stewing and most likely birthing **more** freaks of nature into this world. You understand? I will **not** be liable for a new army of mutants. ** So you will owe me three hundred for the fumigation that I will order**_!" Sue hollered.

"Of course. That sounds fair." "Right." Nodding, Santana grabbed Rachel's hand, spinning on her heel. Yanking the door open, she paused to mutter a small, "Thank you."

"_Get out of here before I decide to hold you back for another year as an example for the new crop of baby Cheerios._" The lights switching off with finality, Rachel still saw the smile on her girlfriend's face. Example _for_. Not example _to_.

Smiling even through her embarrassment, Rachel squeezed Santana's hand. "San?"

"Yes?" As they hurried down the hall, Santana squeezed her hand back.

"We're _never _doing that again."

Santana's nod and snort, followed by a sweet kiss, kept Rachel warm until they were safe in Santana's car, where they sat, panting and staring at each other. And then they were painfully laughing, Rachel reaching out to blame Santana by slapping her knee, but Santana was already pulling her forward, onto her lap, drawing her into a deep, proprietary kiss.

"One for the biography?" she asked when she let Rachel's mouth go, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

Still blushing but now for a different reason, Rachel draped her arms over Santana's shoulders. "Why not?" she sighed, settling into Santana, "We have a party to go to now, right?"

"Of _course_. Think you can stay here as I drive?"

Rachel smiled, shaking her head. "I wish," she murmured, kissing Santana's pout away, moving back into her own seat and buckling her seatbelt. "Just, can we please go to my house first?"

Starting her car, Santana glanced at her. "Sure. Why?"

It was Rachel's turn to smirk. Retaking Santana's hand, she laced their fingers together. "Shower with me?"


End file.
